


The Hand That Feeds

by WonderfulWesley



Category: Glee, White Collar
Genre: AU, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderfulWesley/pseuds/WonderfulWesley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GKM Fill. Special Agent Blaine Anderson is in for the ride of a lifetime when he partners up with master conman Kurt Hummel. Together they fight crime, take down bad guys, and save the day. This would all be a lot easier is they could stop falling in love</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well Hello there! This is yet another story of mine that I've been filling as an anon on the Glee Kink Meme. It's actually a Glee/ White Collar Cross over. Here's the original prompt;
> 
> I'm slightly obsessed with 'White Collar' at the moment, and I thought it'd be perfect for a Glee!AU with Kurt as Neal Caffrey and Blaine as Peter Burke. No specific requests, but bonus points if you include lots of banter and Kurt being the fashionable genius that he is. ;) Together, they fight crime! :D
> 
> So, I fell in love with this prompt, so I took it and ran with it! Needless to say, this story is going to be a little more intense with the sex, just so you're aware. I'm going to continue to fill it on the GKM, but it'll also be filled here too! This is actually the first 2 chapters on the GKM, but it made more sense to stick them together here! I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"He escaped sir."

"How? How did he manage to escape a maximum security prison?"

"I- I don't know sir. That's why we called for you Agent Anderson!"

Agent Blaine Anderson had had just about enough. He had been working on a puzzling case of bank fraud that he just could not pin point when he had been pulled away from the open files by Special Agent Lopez. Apparently, a world class con man, one that Blaine had put in prison himself, had managed to escape.

"You're the only person who's ever been able to catch Hummel. That's why Mr. Shuster here called for you specifically," Agent Lopez explained softly.

Kurt Hummel. It had been almost four years since he had heard that particular name. Suave, saucy, master mind Hummel had managed to evade Blaine and his agency for nearly three years. Agent Anderson refused to stop chasing him, and in the end it had paid off. Special Agent Blaine Anderson has personally escorted one Kurt Hummel to prison with a smile on his face. Needless to say, after all the research he had done, nobody knew Kurt better than Blaine did. There wasn't one aspect of his life that Blaine didn't know something about.

"You mean to tell me the man my agency spent the better half of four years hunting down has suddenly up and vanished without a single trace?"

"Y-yes sir," Mr. Shuster stuttered.

"You're the head security guard at the super max, correct?"  
"Correct sir."

"What kind of incompetent idiot are you?" Agent Anderson bellowed at the jittery man seated in front of him.  
"I-I ..."

"Agent Anderson, can I talk to you outside real quick?" Agent Lopez cut in, trying her hardest not to snicker at the clearly incompetent guard who was shaking in his boots.

Blaine grunted, but followed her out regardless.

"Agent Anderson..." she began.

"You can call me Blaine, Santana. We've known each other for years now. I think we're at that point."

"Yes, well- Blaine. C'mon. Don't beat this guy up too bad. I mean yeah he's an idiot, but you of all people should know how slippery Hummel is."

"Who are you an what have you done with my take no prisoners lesbian best friend?"

"There's only one prisoner I'm worried about right now, and he has about a four hour head start on us."

Blaine grumbled indignantly and motioned to reenter the questioning room.

"I apologize - William, correct?" Blaine asked, looking up at the man. William nodded in response.

"Yes well, I'm sorry, William. I'm working on a particular case at the moment, and the last thing I thought I'd have to deal with is Kurt Hummel. Again. I let my temper get to me."

"It's- it's alright sir."

"It doesn't make you less of an idiot or letting him get away though," Agent Lopez interjected.

"That's my girl. Now. Let's go catch us a con man, yeah?"

Will Shuster personally escorted Blaine and Santana to the cell where Kurt had resided in for the duration of his time there.

"Why in the world would Hummel up and leave when he only had three months of a four year sentence left?" Santana mumbled.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Blaine grinned, snapping on his handy dandy blue inspection gloves.

Kurt's cell was... unique to say the least. Fashion magazine clippings hung on most of the flat surfaces in the cell. All accept the farthest wall. That wall was adorned with multiple sketches of beautiful and complex clothing.

"He had always wanted to be a designer," Blaine explained, almost fondly.

"Too bad he decided to design fake checks rather than crazy clothing huh?" Santana mumbled, eyeing her boss up and down. This was dangerous, and she knew it. Blaine had always had a particular soft spot when it came to Hummel. She knew that opening this cell door was opening a flood gate of emotions that should've been settled ages ago. But, alas Blaine was the best, and he did know Hummel better than anybody in the entire world.

Blaine hummed absent mindedly. He was far too caught up in Kurt's designs. The man was a true artist, there was no denying that. It had always drove Blaine completely insane that a man of his talent had gone down the path that he had. Kurt was talented, suave, and okay yeah, he was seriously good looking, but on top of all of that he was real. Well, as real as a con man could get. It was hard to wrap your head around. Blaine could hardly figure it out in his head, let alone try and explain it to others. He couldn't fathom why such a handsome, talented man would actively choose to be a criminal.

"Oh shit," Santana's harsh voice broke Blaine out of his inner monolog.

"What is it?"

"I-I think I know why Hummel broke out," she whispered, handing over the formal letter that had what were clearly tear stains splattered all over it.

_Dear Mr. Kurt Hummel,_

We are so so sorry to inform you that your father, one Mr. Burt Hummel, came into out hospital recently due to an almost certainly fatal gunshot wound to his head and chest. He has been in a state of unconsciousness and due to your current situation; we are forced to inform you by letter that we will be ending his life support if no progress is made in the next three days. It doesn't look good Mr. Hummel.

We are truly so sorry for your loss,  
The Staff of New York Medical

"I knew he wouldn't leave. I knew he wouldn't without probable cause," Blaine whispered to himself. He began to examine the paper. I he knew Hummel, and he did, this wasn't it. He left something, some sort of explanation. That was just the way he worked.

Sure enough, when Blaine tilted the paper up into the light he managed to make out a faint scrawl.

"See me in the dark," he whispered out loud, "I need a black light in here right now, and I need it dark! Let's go go!"

The security guards who had been surrounding them were startled, but began running about, collecting the things that Agent Anderson had asked for.

"Here's the black light sir but I don't understand why-" a guard began.

"It's the way Hummel works. He thinks he's some 1930s suave version of Robin Hood. I dot question it and neither should you," Blaine explained.

"A mandatory black out will progress in one minutes time. All staff and inmates please remain calm," a stuffy voice projected trough the speakers.

"Alright Hummel, let's see what you got."

Sure enough, when all the lights of the entire prison clicked off, and the metal shutters fell over the windows, there in bright neon yellow, was a message addressed to Agent Anderson.

_Blaine,_

_it's been awhile my friend. I've missed our playful game of cat and mouse. If you're reading this, I've escaped, and the prison has sent you after me, seeing as you're the only one who can catch me. Did you meet Shuster? Bumbling idiot that one. Anyways, I know you're a great agent, and that means you've already figured out why I've left. Somebody tried to murder my dad Blaine. The only person I have left in this world. I can't lose him. I have to go to him Blaine. You know I do. I'm so so sorry. I know you thought you were done with me. I just have to go to him. If by some horrible twist of fate, I'm ... too late, you know where to find me. You somehow always do._

_All my love,_   
_Kurt._

_P.S. I hope you got my birthday cards, they were cute no?_

"You do know him better than anyone else, don't you?" Santana asked, standing by his side.

"I do. And I know where he is."

"The hospital?"

"No. No he's not there. We'd know if he was there. We would've known a lot sooner."

"But that means-" Santana gasped.

"His dad is dead."  
"It says you know where he is?"

"I do."

"Should I call the Bureau?"

"Yeah. Yeah you should."

"Blaine are you okay?"

"I'm- I'm fine. I'm fine. Here," he said pulling out his notebook and scribbling down an address, "gather up some guys and meet me here."

"Shouldn't you have back up?"

"He's not dangerous. He's not a gun guy."

"Blaine-"

"He's not Santana, he's just not."

"Okay, okay. I'll meet you there with the rest of the guys. You know with someone like Hummel they're going to send everyone."

"I know."

"Go. Well be there."

Nodding, Blaine let himself out of the prison and made his way to his car.

He shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't feel bad for this- this criminal. But he did. He honest to  
god did. He wanted to cry for Kurt. He wanted to tell him it would be okay. He'd never admit it out loud, but he knew he had a dangerous soft spot for the man. Nobody knew it, but Kurt was the only person in the world who never missed his birthday. For some reason that meant the world to Blaine. But it shouldn't mean anything. Kurt shouldn't mean anything! He was a criminal. A bad person who belonged in jail. And Blaine was the one who had out him there, and now Blaine was the one who was going to put him back.

Before he realized it, Blaine was parked in front of Burt Hummel's small, dingy apartment complex. Blaine knew that Kurt had moved his father out here to New York with him after he had fallen ill. Burt Hummel had probably paid his rent in federal money that had been stolen by one of Kurt's many aliases.

Sighing, Blaine trekked up the stairs to the third floor, room 307.

"Agent Anderson, long time no see," a soft, melodic voice echoed as he pushed open the door.

"Hello Kurt," Blaine said with that almost fond voice.

"You always know where to find me."

"I know. I've caught you twice now."

"I told you where I'd be. This doesn't count."

"You didn't come right out and say it, so this absolutely counts."

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the loud blipping of police car sirens.

"How many are out there?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at the agent.

"Oh you know, all of them," Blaine answers smiling.  
"Good to know I matter. My dad always told me I did, "Kurt said, smiling sadly, this choking back a sob, "I missed him. I missed saving him by two days. Two days."

"Kurt I'm so- I'm so sorry about your dad," Blaine said, reaching out to comfort on instinct, but thinking better of it, he pulled back and pulled out his radio.

"Suspect apprehended and unarmed. Area secure. He's coming without a fight," Blaine muttered out to the men surrounding.

"I could never fight you," Kurt said batting his watery eyes at the agent.

"Flirting doesn't work with me Hummel. Bat your pretty blue eyes at the guards back at your cell."

"You think I have pretty eyes?"

Blaine rather resembled a gaping fish while he tried to refute Kurt's silly accusation. But then again, Kurt did have magical eyes.

"What's this?" Kurt asked swiping lightly at Blaine's neck, collecting the smudge of blackish ink that was there, "You're usually so put together."

Shivering slightly at Kurt's intimate touch, Blaine answered, "Ink bomb that went off when we tried to take when was suspected to be fake money out of a bank cell. Damn stuff can't be traced."

"What's it worth if I tell you what this is?"

"What?"

"If I tell you what this is, will you agree to meet me, Tuesday at 6 o'clock?"

"Kurt why?"

"C'mon Blaine, the boys are getting antsy. It's just a meeting at the prison. Will you?"

"I- okay."

"It's Amazonian disappearing ink. Untraceable by FBI standardized tests. It's meant to evaporate after it's mixed with something else," sniffing lightly, Kurt smiled, "lemon juice. Pour lemon juice in the infected money. If that works, well I'll tell you the rest at our meeting."

"I - what the hell?" Blaine asked.

"I can't tell you to trust me, because I sure as hell wouldn't trust me, but it'll work. And then you'll be dying to know what comes next. Now," Kurt said turning around and crossing his wrists behind him," Take me in Agent."

Blaine, still thoroughly confused, pulled out his hand cuffs and tried to remind himself not to stare at Kurt's ass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Porn is like, the best ever. Anyways, this was just a sexy filler really. I wanted to show Blaine's internal struggle with the fact that he is so attracted to this con man, the person he is supposed to hate. Next chapter is more development. I hope you like!

"C'mon agent. I see the way you look at me. I know. You keep trying to hide it; you keep trying to convince yourself that you don't want it. I know you just as well as you know me. You want it," a husky voice whispered in Agent Anderson's ear, "I know, because I want it too."

"Kurt-" Blaine whined, high and breathy. Oh god he was in trouble. But the scent of Kurt was so strong, so thick, swirling around him. He was intoxicated by it.

"That's right baby," the con man growled in his ear, pressing his tones body tight against Blaine's.

A moan ripped low from Blaine's throat. It'd been too long since a man and touched him like this. It had been too long since somebody wanted him.

"Fuck Kurt, this is so so wrong," Blaine hardly recognized his own voice. He was so wrecked.

"If it's so wrong why do you feel so good?" Kurt asked him, sliding his hand down to palm roughly at his cock.

"Shit!" Blaine whined again, the sound catching in the back of his throat as his hips push forward into Kurt's grasp.

"Mmmm. Oh baby. Oh I love the sounds you make," Kurt moaned low in his ear, his sinful pink tongue darting out to lick at the soft skin behind his ear.

"Yeah?" Blaine grunted, losing his battle of wrong versus right. You try to have that moral battle while a drop dead gorgeous man has his hand around your cock. It's not as easy as it sounds.

"Oh god yes!" Kurt whined, nibbling on the lobe of Blaine's ear, "Oh you're so big baby. Shit, you'll feel so good inside me. C'mon Blaine, talk to me, pleas baby, please."

"Do you like it baby? Hmmm? Do you want my cock? Fuck Kurt. They way you take it. Your fucking mouth, so pretty. You would look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock," Blaine growled, shoving Kurt up against the nearest wall.

"Oh god," Kurt breathed out, panting and meeting Blaine's desperate thrusts.

Suddenly, Blaine pulls away and Kurt whines at the loss, his delicious hips canting up into the air, as if they were begging.

Smirking, Blaine quickly flips Kurt around, manhandling him so his face is up against the wall and his pert ass is finally on display.

"Are you going to fuck me Agent Anderson?" Kurt feigns innocence, and pushed his ass back, presenting it to Blaine.

"Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you baby?"

"Please! Please Agent I need it. I want you to fill me up; your big cock will feel so good in me."

Blaine can't help but fuck his hips up a little harder at the pleading sound in Kurt's voice. Kneading his ass through his jeans, Blaine's rough hands slide forward to fiddle with Kurt's zipper.

The harsh tone of Blaine's alarm jolted him out of his erotic sleep.

"Shit," he mumbled helplessly. He was fucking hard. He could have actually cut diamonds with his cock right now.

Sitting up, Blaine threw an accusatory glare at his lap. Stupid fucking... subconscious, or whatever the hell it was that was torturing him. His dick was throbbing in his lose flannel pants, and wasn't showing any signs of deflating.

There was no way in hell Blaine was going to jerk off to thoughts of the criminal he had just put in jail for the second time. He didn't care how blue his eyes were or how strong and manly he was or how nice his ass would look while Blain stretched him for his thick and needy cock - oh shit this was not helping.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Blaine whined flipping back down on his bed. He was going to have to do this. Oh god, how would he ever look Kurt in the eyes again.

Closing his eyes, Blaine gave into temptation and let the fantasy pick back up.

"Yes," he moaned into his empty room when his own calloused fingers flicked harshly over his nipple. Hell, if he was going to give in and do this, he was going to do it all the way.

Shimming his pajama pants down and right off, Blaine let his legs fall open even wider.

Trailing his hands lightly through the patch of hair that led from his navel to his hard traitor of a cock, he tried his hardest not to think of soft pale hands. He really couldn't help himself. He hadn't been this hard in a long time. Pre come was steadily dripping from his slit, and Blaine used that to his advantage.

Finally allowing himself to grab a hold of his cock, a whole new spiel of images bombarded him. Kurt, stretched out and beautiful, just impaling himself on Blaine's thick cock.

"Oh god yes," Blaine whined, his body going tense like a bow. He jerked himself roughly, loving the harsh pull, and quietly wishing it was someone else in his bed.

"Ku-" he panted hoarsely, his strong hips fucking up into the circle of his fist. He was going to come. God he hadn't come this quickly in years.

Binding his knees to get a better angle, Agent Blaine Anderson fucked into his own hand, once, twice, three more times before he came loudly. Pearly strands of come roped out and splattered across his abdomen.

His over active mind sent him flashes of a hot pink tongue on his stomach and per icing blue eyes looking up at him.

"Shit," he cried as his over sensitive cock twitched with interest.

Groaning to himself, Blaine grabbed some of the tissues from the box on his night stand, and hastily cleaned himself up. He'd have to shower... later.

Blaine grabbed his phone to check I he had any new messages or important emails. As soon as the screen of his I-phone lit up, he groaned and felt a strong desire to chuck it across the room.

It was Tuesday.

Well, this was going to be awkward.


	3. Chapter 3

"He was right you know," Santana said as soon as Blaine entered the office later that day.

"He's always right. Wait who was right?"

"Hummel. We took the botched money down to the lab. Lemon juice did the trick. The entire bureau wants to know how the hell you knew to do that. I, of course, told them that you were the boss for a reason, but you and I both know that it was Hummel."

"Yes, well, Hummel is marvelous isn't he? Why doesn't he just come in and take my place. He can solve all these crimes and then commit some himself!" Blaine shouted, losing his cool. Good god, it wasn't even 10 o'clock yet, and he was already losing his cool. Maybe he needed a vacation.

"Why are you meeting with him today?" she asked him, arching an eyebrow at him. "I mean, if he makes you this angry?"

"Don't give me that look Lopez; it was part of the deal."

"You made a deal with a con man?"

"He was right wasn't he?"

"Touché."

"Right, so I want this guy. I want every single file that we have on The Banker, we're going to catch this son of a bitch," Blaine grumbled, really not wanting to talk about Hummel after his little stint that morning.

"The Banker? That's his alias? You're slipping Anderson."

"Files!" Blaine growled, snapping his fingers at the female agent.  
It was going to be one long ass day, that much Blaine was sure of. He felt angry, and ashamed. He couldn't believe he had allowed his... his hormones to get the best of him. This guy was a criminal. This guy was by definition a bad person. Sure, he was the least violent person Agent Anderson had ever dealt with, but still.

"It's just your body playing by its own rules," Blaine grumbled to himself, "you can't deny he's an attractive man. That's not your fault."

The thing was, Kurt was stunning. Any person in their right mind could see that. That's probably how he conned half of the people he did; with his blue eyes and award winning smile. And besides, Blaine was a young gay man, he was allowed to appreciate a fine specimen when the occasion arouse. And good god was Kurt fine. His broad chest and perfect brown hair. His thick toned legs and smooth hard abdomen. Everything about him screamed sexual tension.

"It really isn't fair."

He was talking out loud to himself. Again.

Man it was a good thing they gave him his own office.

Blaine groaned, rubbing his fists into his closed eyes, and managed to sneak a quick peak at his phone.

"Shit!" he swore. It was 5:30 on the dot. He'd have to leave the office that moment if he wanted to make his meeting on time.

"Not like he's got anywhere to be," Blaine snickered to himself. Oh Agent humor, it would never get old.

"Listen up;" Blaine called from his post on the upper deck of the office," I'm heading out for my meeting. I want ever viable agent here working on the current Banker case. This guy is stealing millions from the government and not to mention, he's a suspect in three different murders. He's dangerous and he needs to be stopped. Let's do our job people!"

"Aye aye captain!" a gruff voice shouted back.

"Can it Puckerman, and get me some coffee to go while you're at it."

The whole office snickered lightly as Agent Puckerman pouted, but did as he was told.

Coffee in hand, Blaine made his way out to his car to make good on his deal with the proverbial devil.

A lot of people we're probably wondering why in the world Agent Anderson would even make good on his promise. He could have just used the information and left Kurt in prison to rot. Most people probably would have done that if they were him. But, the thing is, Blaine was a man of his word. When he said he was going to do something, he did it. No matter what. He had said he would be a first class F.B.I agent, and he was He had said he would catch Hummel, and he did. He had promised he would meet Kurt, so he would. He didn't go back on promises. Even if they were promises made to con men.

But, Kurt wasn't any con man. He might have been bad, but he wasn't evil. Blaine could tell by looking in his eyes, he didn't do the things he did to maliciously hurt people, and that, for some unexplained reason, gave him a few extra points in Blaine's book.

"Agent Blaine Anderson, I'm here to meet Mr. Kurt Hummel," Blaine announced to the guard, flashing his badge.

"Yes, hello Agent. Right this way."

Blaine followed the large security guard down the concrete hallway, to a small, dingy yellow room

"Agent Anderson, long time no see," A soft and silky voice ran out.

"Hello Hummel," Blaine scowled at him, trying to compose his face into something menacing.

"Oh wipe that look off your face Anderson, you look like your kid just struck out at T-Ball, come on sit down, talk to me," Kurt giggled, waving the guard off.

The security guard looked to Blaine, asking permission to go back to his post. Nodding, Blaine sat down in the chair opposite Kurt.

"Alone at last," Kurt cooed, smiling his thousand watt smile.

"Why am I here Kurt?" Blaine asked, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide the thick arousal in his voice.

"Ohhh straight to the point kinda guy, I like that. Well not so much the straight part, but you aren't a pitcher for that team, are you Agent?" Kurt asked in a low voice, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes.

Blaine swallowed thickly. He must be dreaming, again. He subtly skimmed his hand down to his thigh and pinched harshly. Shit, nope, he was awake.

"Did you demand a meeting with me to discuss my sexuality?" Blaine asked him kin a strained voice.

"No, no I guess I didn't."

"Then what exactly is it that you want?"

Kurt took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and looked Blaine dead in the eye.

"I want to help you."

Blaine arched an eyebrow at him, (a trick he'd picked up from Santana over the years) as if to say "You must be joking."

"You have precedent, Blaine. There are laws and programs and a myriad of things we could do. See right here," Kurt exclaimed, pulling out a Manila folder full of documents, "Right here! I could be released into your custody for the remainder of my sentence!"

"You would just run as soon as they let you out," Blaine said critically.

"No, no I wouldn't because there is a GPS tracker that the state would attach to me. It's never been able to be tampered with," Kurt explained.

"There's always a first time for everything," Blaine said pointedly.

"Not with this, Blaine."

"If you think I'm going to take you on as my, what is this, what is this called?" Blaine asked, standing up.

"Criminal consultant," Kurt supplied.

"As my criminal consultant, well you must be crazy!"

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, "Blaine please."

Blaine looked down at where Kurt was sitting. He seemed so helpless in that moment. So small and so damn young.

"Why Kurt?"

"Somebody murdered my father. The only person I had left in this world. I can't do anything about it behind bars. But you and I, together, we could figure out who did it," Kurt explained quietly, his voice breaking, "Besides, this pasty yellow is doing nothing to bring out my skin tones."

There it was. The harsh, sarcastic shell that Kurt had created to keep the world out. Blaine could see right through it, though, to the young helpless boy who had lost his father.

"I- okay. I'll see what I can do," Blaine said finally, turning to leave.

"Blaine!" Kurt called to him.

Turning, Blaine came face to chest with Kurt.

Winding his arms around the shorter agent, Kurt hugged him closely, almost tenderly.

"Thank you," he whispered brokenly.

This time, Blaine let himself hug back without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well would you look at that! Blaine is getting himself a partner! I wonder how in the world that will go. Well, I mean I know how it'll go, because I'm writing it, but still! Anyways, I hope you like this!


	4. Chapter 4

The wind was whipping all around him in a sort of ominous way. Blaine really couldn't believe he had been talked into doing this. Maybe this was Kurt's ultimate con; tricking an F.B.I agent into releasing him from prison. He was about to take on the responsibility of basically babysitting a grown criminal for the next four years. Sometimes, he really hated the big soft heart he carried around in his chest.

"Let me see it," Blaine called out as soon as Kurt walked- make that skipped, he was literally skipping- out of the super max.

Smirking, Kurt lifted his pant leg to reveal a chunky black tracking device. Knowing Kurt the way he did, Blaine knew wearing that device was a huge sacrifice for him, for the mere fact that it went well with absolutely nothing. Blaine actually felt a strange jolt of accomplishment at that. Good, let him be uncomfortable.

"You are aware of what this means, correct?" Blaine asked him, still glaring from a distance.

"It means that I belong to you for the next four years. I have to do everything you say, when you say it. I'm to obey the rules, always and no matter what," Kurt spouted off in a monotone voice, a look of complete boredom tainting his pretty features.

Blaine broke out into a smile despite himself.

"How long did they keep you up rehearsing that?"

"All damn night! It was border line cruel and unusual punishment," Kurt whined, skipping over to Blaine, and in a fury of excitement, tree his arms around the agent in a fierce hug.

Taken aback, Blaine couldn't help but subtly inhale the musky scent that was so male and so undeniable Kurt. It made his head spin in that deliciously euphoric way.

Shaking his head in hopes to clear it, Blaine patted Kurt on the shoulders and stiffly pushed him away.

"Okay number one, stop randomly hugging me, alright. We aren't long lost buddies. This is your job now, so you have to act like a professional," Blaine said sternly, easily slipping into his "Big Bad Agent" persona, "Number two, this is temporary. You help me catch the Banker and we will discuss making it permanent."

Nodding enthusiastically, Kurt started bouncing on his toes as he followed Blaine to his car.

"I have a few questions, of course," Kurt began.

"You don't get to have questions," Blaine grumbled, opening the door for Kurt.

"Ever the gentleman," Kurt snickered, "But yes I am so allowed to have questions. I've made some mistakes, but I'm still a human being. That being said I do not feel like one. So my question is what should I do about clothing, because as you can see I'm wearing my entire wardrobe and it's doing nothing for me."

"You like bargains, make your way down to the thrift store and find yourself something," Blaine grunted, rolling his eyes at the man next to him. Kurt was upset to the point where it was physically noticeable.

"Here we are," Blaine Said smirking as he led Kurt to a dingy admittedly horrible looking hotel.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kurt groaned.

"Hello, I'm here with Kurt Hummel, I called about him earlier?" Blaine inquired at the head desk, choosing to completely ignore Kurt's rotten attitude.

"Oh yeah, look 'im. Hi ya doing there fancy," the bald man at the counter grinned, showing off his lack of teeth and handing over the keys.

"Blaine can I speak to you for a moment, over here?" Kurt asked quickly, grimacing at the bald man.

"Blaine I cannot live here," he whispered frantically, "it's disgusting."

"Oh no no no," Blaine said, jabbing an accusatory finger into Kurt's chest, "You don't get to complain. You lost that right when you stole all those paintings-"

"Allegedly," Kurt cut in.

Blaine glared at Kurt with a look that said, "Shut the hell up," and continued.

"You lost that right, so you are going to live here. Four hundred bucks a month. That's how much it cost to have you locked up, that's how much the government is willing to spend on you out here. Now you can take the keeps from the kind man or you can hop in my car and take a ride back down to the super max, your choice."

Throwing Blaine a perfected bitch glare, Kurt snatched up the keys in a huff.

"If you can find something better for the same amount within your two miles, be my guest," Blaine smirked.

"I can't believe I have to go buy my clothes at a thrift shop," Kurt whined indignantly.

"Sorry, that's the way it goes," Blaine smiled, oddly proud of himself, "I'll be here at 7 am tomorrow. Be ready to go."

With one parting smirk, Blaine spun on his heels and walks out of the hotel lobby. And Kurt was alone.

"Hey dere, don't chu be worried fancy. Well take good care of ya'."

Grimacing at the creepy man behind the counter, Kurt decided to go and do what he did best. Well other than steal priceless things and forge perfect banking stubs.

It was time to go shopping

Blaine was right. There was a small thrift shop right down the street from the horrible hotel that that agency had housed him in. He could not even believe that this is what his life had come to. Living in a creepy broken down building and shopping at a thrift store. It was the price he has to pay to get out of the cell.

Kurt allowed his mind to wander a bit as he delicately shifted through the racks in the store. On the bright side, he did get to work with Blaine. He would never admit it out loud, but the agent fascinated him. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but when he was around the man, he just felt... good. He felt a strange sense of calm and safety. And that was saying something, because Kurt never felt safe and most definitely never felt calm.

Not to mention Agent Anderson was gorgeous. Like, disturbingly handsome. Kurt knew that they were supposed to be some sort f sworn enemies, but he just could not bring himself to hate someone so fucking hot.

The best part was that Agent Anderson didn't know who stunning he was. Kurt lived for those moments of harmless flirting that made the agent get flustered and uncomfortable. The fact that he didn't know how hot he was made him so much hotter.

Kurt was an honest man in everything but his "job". He would openly admit that he had spent a couple cold lonely nights in that cell with his hand around his dock and Blaine's name on his lips. He was just that open.

Kurt was pulled from his indecent day dreams by a pretty voice floating through the store.

"Hello, I'd like to donate some more of my husband's things," a beautiful black woman said, smiling at the young man behind the counter.

"Hello," Kurt cut in, smiling his best smile at the woman, " I couldn't help but notice, these are McQueen!"

"Yes," the lady giggled slightly, " My late husband, Sammy, he had a knack for high end fashion."

"A man of my own heart!"

"I'm Mercedes," the woman smiled, extending her hand out to Kurt, who of course, gripped it tightly and kissed her hand, grinning.

"I have a full room full of Sammy's old things if you're interested. He'd love to know that his clothes were going to someone who could appreciate them. Well not really a room, it's more of an apartment really."

Smiling widely, Kurt batted his eyelashes.

"How far away do you live?"

"Not far," Mercedes said, smirking lightly.

"Lead the way, my lady."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hahah, so it's revealed! Mercedes is my June character. She just, I don't know, she fit. Thank you all so so much for your wonderful feedback. It means so much and it inspires me to write! I hope you guys are enjoying this. I'm so enjoying writing it! Can anybody take a guess who the Mozzie character will be? Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey look, my A/N is up here this time! Switching it up! Anyways, I wanted to say thank you to every single person who reads this silly little fic. It seriously means the whole entire world to me! Please, feel completely free to give me any and all your feedback and thoughts! It inspires me so much! You guys are like the best ever. This chapter is cute and lovely and sprinkled with a little angst with a dash of sexual frustration. Of course there's sexual frustration! These two boys are the kings of sexual frustration.

When Agent Anderson woke up the next day he was nervous to say the least. He had, just the day before, consented to releasing a known convict into his custody for the next four years. He really just hoped that this wouldn't come bite him in the ass.

On his way to pick up said convict, Blaine couldn't help but envision a myriad of horrible scenarios involving him and Kurt and all the different ways that this whole debacle could go horribly wrong. Kurt could try and run. He probably wouldn't get too far seeing as Blaine was now 2 and 0 for catching him, but it still wouldn't look good for Blaine if he took this chance and Kurt completely disregarded him. The underlying attraction that Blaine had towards the man wasn't helping anything either. He was getting real tired of waking up in the middle of the night, hard as a rock and aching for release. He had gone through a small bottle of lube and every fantasy that didn't involve a certain blue eyed criminal that he could think of. He was running out of ideas, lube, and time allotted for sleep. It was starting to throw off his groove. There were so many different ways that this could destroy Blaine, and yet here he was, walking up to the broken down apartment hotel... thing to pick Kurt up for his first day as a member of the F.B.I.

"Hello there, I'm here to pick up Kurt Hummel? If you could ring him down for me?" Blaine asked the man who worked behind the counter. He was a tad strange looking, and he smelled suspiciously like a new car. For a moment Blaine couldn't help but feel just a little sorry for Kurt. He quickly reminded himself that Kurt was a convict and that meant he deserved this. Hell, he deserved a lot more than this, but he ever true to his particular Kurt Hummel fashion, had managed to get off easy.

"Kurt? Ohhh you mean fancy? Yeah yeah. He told me to give you this. Nice kid. Clean," the man muttered more to himself than to Blaine as he handed over a small piece of paper with Kurt's loopy handwriting on it.

_Dear Agent Anderson,_

_I have relocated 1.6 miles away. You can find me at this address now;_

_317 Park Place New York, New York._

_I would have texted you, but I don't have your phone number. Why don't I have your phone number? I should probably get your phone number._

_Anyways! Can't wait to fight some crime with you. See you soon._

_Sincèrement,_   
_Kurt Hummel_

"You have got to be kidding me," Blaine groaned.

"I don't kid about chickens," the man behind the counter answered him seriously.

Slightly bewildered, Blaine decided that he would rather not know, so he nodded, turned on his heels and made his way to try and find Kurt Hummel. Again.

It seemed as though his life was starting to develop a pattern.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Blaine exclaimed again when he arrived at 317 Park Place. There was absolutely no way that Kurt had managed to weasel his way into living here. Especially for $400 a month. This wasn't a hotel or even an apartment. This was a mansion. A disgustingly large, old Victorian mansion. The inner designer that Blaine tried to keep hidden under his bed along with his collection of Vogue told him that the house was beautiful and he should appreciate the aesthetic value of it, but the much more prominent agent in Blaine told him that this was so deliberate hoax meant to con him. There was only one way to find out. Standing straight and pushing back his shoulders, Blaine knocked on the door.

"Hello?" A lovely woman answered the door, smiling brightly.

"Hello ma'am," Blaine began, turning on his charm the best he could, "I'm Agent Blaine Anderson. I must have the wrong house-"

"Oh yes hello! You're here for Kurtsie right?" The woman Kurt him off suddenly beaming.

"Kurtsie?"

"Yes! Kurt!"

"Oh well yes I am. He's here?" Blaine asked, unable to hide his disbelief.

"Of course. He's right up stairs in the apartment. Come on, I'll show you. I'm Mercedes by the way," she smiled at him, extending her delicate hand.  
Completely bewildered, Blaine accepted her hand. Mercedes tugged him throughout the huge house, up the stairs, through what seemed to be a luxurious apartment, and out onto a beautiful balcony, finally coming to a stop in front of a fully dressed glass table, full with every breakfast food imaginable.

"Oh Agent Anderson! I see you got my letter," Kurt cooed at him, peek out from over his newspaper, "And you've met Mercedes. Lovely!"

"How in the world-" Blaine began looking around, trying to settle his gaze on anything other than the disheveled state of Kurt's chestnut hair and how it look as if somebody had threaded their fingers through the thick locks and pulled.

"Yes, beautiful isn't it? I took you advice and went to the thrift shop. I met Mercy there and she offered me a place to say. I guess you can find valuable things in the strangest places," Kurt explained, winking at Mercedes.

"This- you can't- I mean-" Blaine stumbled over his words, partly because he wasn't sure if there was any way this was legal, and partly because Kurt had just stood up from the table revealing that he had on only loose navy blue silk lounge pants that hung very very low on his hips.

"You said if could find anything better for the same price I should take it," Kurt reprimanded, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to wake himself up.

"She- she is going to let you stay here for only $400?" Blaine asked, licking his lips absently. God he really hoped his wide eyed expression could pass for astonished and not unbelievable turned on.

"Yes well Mercedes is a gem. That and I'll be helping with the chores, you know. Walking the dog and such," Kurt explained, motioning for Blaine to take his previously occupied seat.

"You doing chores?" Blaine asked, arching his eyebrow and accepting the seat.

"Of course. I'm an honest man now agent," Kurt smiled, winking at Blaine.

"Go get dressed!" Blaine snapped, blushing furiously. This man would be the end of him, he was sure of it. How in the world had he managed to pull this one off? He was a criminal! He should be behind bars, and yet here he was in a beautiful home with beautiful clothes and a wonderful view. Blaine just didn't get it!

"You know," Blaine began, looking directly at Mercedes, "Kurt isn't some wandering kid. That's not jewelry he's wearing on his ankle. He's a felon."

Mercedes merely smiled, and poured Blaine a cup of coffee.

"So was my Sammy."

Realization crossed over Blaine's features and he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Of course," he moaned, "of course even the coffee is perfect," throwing a smile at Mercedes who giggled in return.

"Ready to go fight crime Anderson?" Kurt called from the door way.

Oh good god. Kurt looked... he looked delicious. He was dressed to the nines in tight black dress pants, a deep blue collared shirt (that was doing wonders at bringing out the color of his eyes even more) with a matching black skinny tie, and a sheet black over coat in one hand, thrown over his shoulder.  
"As ready as I'll ever be with you Hummel," Blaine said, clearing his throat lightly, "Thank you so much for the coffee Mercedes."

Nodding and waving the boys off, Blaine stood up to follow Kurt out the door. Kurt stopped to hold the door open for Blaine, always playing the part of a gentleman.

"So do I get a badge?" Kurt asked skipping down the hall way After Blaine.

"Not an official agent badge. You might get a C.I. badge. We'll see," Blaine answered flatly.

"You seem upset?" Kurt asked him, tilting his head to the side.

Blaine only grunted in response.

"Was it the coffee? Cause I can totally get you some to take home."

"It's not about the coffee," Blaine answered, glaring at his feet.

"I think it might be."

"It's not."

"I really think it is about the-"

"THIS ISN'T A GAME KURT!" Blaine snapped, raising his voice at the man next to him, "This is real life, a place where most of us have been living for a whole now. This isn't the way this is supposed to work. Listen, I'm an honest guy, I do the right thing, and I work hard every day, and even I don't have that view! This is all backwards and this is how it starts. This is how your convoluted getting something for nothing plans start! And now, not only is your life on the line, so is mine! And I can't handle you rushing about treating all of this like a game!"

Breathing heavily and collecting himself, Blaine looked up at Kurt who was slightly shocked.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

"It's some sort of Italian roast I think," Kurt said, smiling softy to let Blaine know he was forgiven.

Snorting, Blaine side eyed Kurt and smiled.

"What's up with the hat? You look like a cartoon character," Blaine said, slipping easily into the snarky banter that he and Kurt were slowly perfecting. It was good, it was light, and it was comfortable.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, stopping in front of the archway that led outside, a hand on his hip and glaring, "This is classic Rat Pack, this is Dior!"

"Okay Darkwing Duck, if you say so," Blaine snickered, walking briskly out the door to his car.

"Darkwing did not wear a classy fedora!" Kurt called, chasing after him angrily.

"Again, if you say so," Blaine answered before getting into his car, the smile still on his face.

If someone asked Blaine how he thought this new found camaraderie would play out, he'd have to tell them that he hadn't the slightest clue. Kurt was strange and crazy and brilliant. He always zigged when Blaine thought he was going to zag, and if Blaine was being honest, he'd have to admit he kinda loved that about Kurt.

So no, Blaine had no idea what was going to happen here, but there was one thing that he was absolutely certain of; if Kurt had anything to do with it, it would be one hell of a ride.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been a while, finals here are insane, and I've been working on another project! Gosh time got away from me! Okay so we're finally getting to the epic crime fighting and how awesomely smart Kurt is! I lied a teeny bit, we don't meet the Mozzie character this chapter but I promise that we will the next no matter what! There's also more sexy times coming up for our boys soon so be prepared! Again thank you so much to everybody who reads this! I love you all!

"So this is the infamous bureau?" Kurt asked, his magnificent blue eyes shining. He bent over to grab a manila case file and open it, giving agent Anderson a fleeting yet perfect view of his ass.

Good god Blaine couldn't deal with this so early in the morning. His traitor of a mind was sending explicit images of him sinking his teeth into that perfect ass straight to his traitor cock.

"Give me that," Blaine said roughly, snatching the folder out of Kurt's hands and handing it back to the wide eyed intern, "Don't touch anything unless your told to. Now come on, I'll show you your desk."

"I get a desk?" Kurt asked as he followed closely behind the agent.

_Too close too close not close enough,_ Blaine chanted in his mind as he led Kurt up the stairs to the second floor.

"That's because you spent the better part of your working age life running from me," the agent answered. He stopped in front of a sleek wooden desk located in the room directly next to his office. The wall connecting the two rooms was made of bullet proof, sound proof glass. Kurt could easily see into Blaine's office, but that way he couldn't hear him.

"Ohhhhh," Kurt purred sitting up on the desk and crossing his long legs, "I get to play up here with the big boys?"

"I need you to stay close so I can keep an eye on you," Blaine told him rolling his eyes.

"Mmmmm I always knew you thought I was pretty," Kurt smirked, batting his long eyelashes at the flustered agent.

"Oh shut up Hummel," Blaine glared and praying to anybody that could be listening that he wasn't as red as he felt, "Were focusing the case in 15 minutes. Read the files I've left on your desk and then join us in the boardroom, and for god sake, you have a chair, use it."

"Yes sir," Kurt told him, smirking again. Blaine blushed furiously and made his way over to his office.

Sitting down in a huff, Blaine shoved his hands into his hair and groaned. He could not even handle this. Kurt and his stupidly perfect body and his snarky voice and his beautiful eyes. It really wasn't fair that the man that Blaine had put in prison twice literally looked like he stepped out of one of the agents midnight fantasies. He was literally perfect and Blaine knew that he was playing with fire by agreeing to take him on as a CI, but what could he do? Those stupid blue eyes held a special place in his heart and he just couldn't say no.  
Blaine had never dealt with this before. He'd always been professional and quick. He'd never felt this insane tug towards a man before, and a convict no less. There was just something about Kurt Hummel that drew Blaine in, no matter how hard he fought it. Blaine didn't trust Kurt in the least bit, but that didn't stop him from wanting him.

Groaning again Blaine scrubbed at his head again and finally allowed himself to look up. When he finally did, he couldn't help but look over to the clear wall that connected him to the man that kept plaguing his thoughts.

Kurt was completely immersed in the files that Blaine had left him. His magnificent eyes were wide and his puffy bottom lip was drawn up between his teeth. As his eyes shifted back and forth, reading at lightening speed, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, like he was deep in thought.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat, and not for the first time he was thankful that his room was sound proof. In that moment, Kurt was almost angelic. Sure, Blaine constantly unwillingly objectified Kurt on a regular basis, but right then, looking at him when he thought no one was, it was like seeing into Kurt's very being and he was stunning.

Shaking his head, Blaine turned his head back to the files on his desk. He had a job to do, and wrestling his feelings for a known criminal was not it

"Alright guys," Blaine began, but was cut off by a loud cough from Santana.

"And lady," Blaine amended rolling his eyes. He looked at Santana pointedly, asking if it was okay to continue. She gave him a quick nod and he picked back up, "This guy, The Banker, he's dangerous, and it's our job to stop him. So what do we have?"

Blaine swore he could hear crickets chirping.

"Really? Nothing, we have nothing? How can we have nothing?" Blaine exclaimed.

"All we know is that he's stolen money from 4 banks now. It all totals to $2.5 million. The last one he robbed was he one here in New York City. The leads and sources we have tell us that he's going to use the money to buy something from the underground art market, something big," an agent announced, scratching at his black mohawk.

"That makes no sense," Santana mumbled, "If he wanted something, why didn't he just steal that?"

"It actually makes perfect sense. Blaine, if I may?" Kurt cut in from the back of the room.

Blaine gave his a short nod, and Kurt stood up and walked to the front of the room. He was a performer, and if was going to do this, all eyes would be on him while he did.

"He's been stealing cash the same way now for a 4 bank streak. Every bank has lost a lot of money, and not just from him taking it, but from his little ink stunt he keeps pulling. All tracking devices that any bank has are useless unless they have something to base the tracking off of. So by inking the money, it won't leave a paper trail. He's smart, he's just no imaginative. He can't figure out another way to pull the robberies off and he knows that someone is going to catch on to the ink factor of his scheme sooner or later. My guess is that's he's figured out that you don't really need a chemical agent to clear the ink up; it'll do it by itself. The thing is, is that he doesn't know how long it takes, and now he's panicking. He wants some form of art or other valuable from the underground market because it's just as valuable as the money, but it's untraceable. He wants to pawn the money off on someone else so that by the time the ink clears up and the money can be tracked, it'll lead to some underground art dealer and he'll get off scot free," Kurt explained easily. Looking around the room he noticed several people with their mouths actually open in both awe and confusion. Kurt smiled brightly at them, acting as if this was the simplest thing in the world.

"So then why did he use disappearing ink? Why didn't he just let the money get destroyed?" Blaine asked him, slightly confused.

"If a stork brought you a sack of money to your porch, would you shoot it, or let it go so it could come back with more?" Kurt asked coolly.

"He wanted to leave it open ended so he could break in and steal more money," Santana gasped.

"By George she's got it!" Kurt cheered, only slightly sarcastic.  
"Don't screw with her Hummel, she will rip you a new ass," Blaine murmured to him, motioning him to sit down next to him.  
Kurt merely waved him off and continued to speak to the room full of agents.  
"His file shows that he's got a thing for expensive things, so we figure out what he wants to buy, we get one, and we snag him!" Kurt explained, clapping his hands together and falling down into the chair next to Blaine.

"How do you propose we find out what he wants all knowing Hummel? We don't know who he is!" Santana snapped at him.

"Easy there Salsa Calient, the guy likes to be in the high end of things. He follows trends. That's bound to translate into his criminal life as well, so we find out what's hot on the black market and we go from there," Kurt explained, not even blanching at Santana's harsh tone.

"If you haven't noticed, we're all kind of F.B.I agents. We don't really have the means to go around asking about the black market without causing a ruckus," A large agent from the back of the room said.

"Don't worry Frankenfed, I know just the person to help us out," Kurt said with a semi evil grin.

Oh Blaine did not like the looks of that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey there folks! I went through and read all your comments, and they just made my day! Seriously, you are all like the very best! I hope you're still enjoying this story, 'cause I still love writing it! If anybody is interested, I happen to be youdtearthiscanvasskinapart on tumblr. So if you have any questions, comments, or complaints that you want me to get to ASAP you can find me there! I'm literally always on timblr, so it's really the easiest way. I also have been writing a couple other stories. They're on , which is right here ;) . (I apologize for the shameless self promotion, but I really like the other stories and I hope you will too!) Anyways, on to the story! As promised, we meet the "Mozzie" of our story this go around. Also, prepare thine selves for angst of the Kurt degree. (I know we call Blaine angst blangst, but what do we call Kurt angst. Kangst sounds like some rare STD) Enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think!

"Kurt Hummel, if you think for one second I am coming out of this closet without you saying the secret safe code, you have got another thing coming!" A high pitched voice shrilled from behind a large oak door.

Sometimes Blaine really had to wonder how he got himself into these messes. Somehow, they always led back to Kurt.

"I wrestled myself out of the closet at 15; I think I can take you!" Kurt shouted back, rapping on harshly on the door for what had to have been the millionth time.

"When you called me and told me you needed my expertise I thought you meant we were going to pull a con, or at the very least sing together, I did not for a second think it meant you wanted me to work with a Fed. A FED KURT!" The voice yelled.

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Feds!" Blaine called to the girl in the closet.

"That's exactly what a Fed would say," the voice and Kurt answered at the same time.

Blaine huffed and decided to wander around the hallway of Kurt's apartment for a few more minutes before he called in the fricken swat team to take care of this.

"I know that you would only use the code for someone you really really trusted, so if you won't use it, you don't trust him," the girl explained.

"It has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with the fact that the super secret code is stupid!" Kurt spat out, glaring at the oak door.

"That's exactly what you want me to believe but I know for a fact that-"

"OH FOR CHRIST'S SAKE KURT JUST SAYTHE DAMN CODE!" Blaine bellowed. He could not take another second of this insane bickering.

"Fine," Kurt huffed, "Liza sings at midnight."

"Now was that really so difficult?" the girl asked as she stepped out of the closet.

"You're a personified ass, you know that right?" Kurt asked her, but his harsh words were softened by the look of complete love and adoration on his face. Blaine tried really hard to squash the jealous feeling that had flared up inside of him for a moment.

"Yes, we'll who's the one who hasn't gotten caught?" She asked indignantly, flicking her long brown hair out of her eyes.

"Twice," Blaine added, just to get a rise out of Kurt.

"The second time did not count!" He growled.

"Mhmmm, anyways, can I ask who this is?" Blaine inquired, disregarding Kurt completely.

"You can call me Barbra," the girl answered, glaring slightly at Blaine.

"Her name is Rachel," Kurt supplied with a bored tone.

"Kurt!" Rachel yelled, stomping her foot, (literally stomping her foot. How the hell old was this girl?) "You can't just give away my identity like that!"

"Oh my god, just shut up hobbit, we're here for your expertise. See? You can help us and I'll stroke your ego, all at the same time!" Kurt said with mock enthusiasm.

"What makes you think I'm going to help a suit?" she asked.

"Because the suit is the reason I'm not behind bars anymore," Kurt answered.

"I'm- I'm so sorry about your dad, Kurtsie," Rachel said, shifting closer to the taller man.

"It's fine, it's - I'm okay, just please help us?" Kurt asked gently, holding the small girl close and burying his face in her hair. Blaine averted his eyes. He felt like he was intruding on something personal and sacred.

"Fine," Rachel said, straighten herself out and turning to look at Blaine, "But I have some demands first suit."

Blaine arched an eyebrow at her. She smirked slightly, and turned to march down the hall to the living room.

"It's much easier just to go along with it," Kurt explained placing his large hand on the small of Blaine's back and leading him towards the girl. Blaine fought tooth and nail against the shiver that wanted to rack through his body at the intimate touch.

"I want immunity," Rachel demanded as soon as the two had sat down on the sofa.

"Immunity from what?" Blaine asked, completely bewildered by this girl's antics.

"Anything I am about to reveal," she answered shortly.

"I-" Blaine began, but stopped when Kurt put his hand on his thigh. Blaine looked to Kurt, who simply smiled and shook his head, telling Blaine not to fight with her.

"Fine," he sighed, still trying to ignore the warm hand on his thigh, and took out his badge, "Immunity granted."

Kurt smiled and patted his thigh, then brought his hand back to his own lap. Blaine almost pouted at the lost.

"Alright," Rachel said, smiling brightly and clapping her hands together, "What exactly do you need from me?"

"Rach, we need to know what's hot on the underground now a days," Kurt started, leaning in slightly.

"You're after the Banker, aren't you?" She asked.

"How do you all know about him!" Blaine asked.

"You keep tabs on cons, Cons keep tabs on you," Rachel told him, shrugging her shoulders.

"I- you know what, fine. What can you tell us?" Blaine asked, gesturing for her to go on.

"Well I can tell you that it's not a painting or a sculpture that he wants, that's not the trend anymore," Rachel explained, her voice taking a mystical tone.

"What is he after then?" Kurt asked.

"A dress. And not just any dress, this," Rachel said pulling out a photograph.

Blaine leaned in to take a better look. There, on the table, was a photograph of the most gorgeous dress Blaine had ever seen. It's was a light salmon color with what looked like diamond sequences.

"He wants a dress?" Blaine asked.

"This isn't just any dress, suit," Rachel said, snatching the photo back as if Blaine had personally offended her.

"It's the Peach Champagne by Catharine Walker. Legend has it that it was stolen on the night of Princess Diana's death, but I thought it was just a myth," Kurt explained, the awe evident in his voice.

"Why do you have a random picture of it?" Blaine asked Rachel suddenly.

"Because I'm a con?" She said as if he was the stupidest person she'd ever met.

"Rachel that's-" he began, but was cut off.

"IMMUNITY!" she shouted at him.

"Just ignore her," Kurt muttered in his ear.

Blaine was really going to have to figure out how to talk to Kurt about this close proximity thing. Constantly having him so close and warm and soft and- well it was doing a number on his nerves.

"Yes, fine yes! Immunity! Are you absolutely sure that this is what out guy is after?" Blaine shouted, trying to calm Rachel down.

"Yes suit; this is what he's after. The Banker is a man that wants the most rare and amazing things. He's about status, and this right here is the rarest and the greatest. Any con in their right mind would kill to get their hands on this. Well, except maybe Kurt," She explained smiling at Kurt.

"What, I don't like guns!" Kurt said defensively.

"We know," Rachel told him.

"Alright, well how do we lure this guy out?" Blaine asked.

"That part is easy," Kurt began, "We make a replica, an exact replica, of the dress and we use an old alias of mine to throw a party here in New York. He let it slip that I have the dress to a select few, and with the combination of a high end party and the promise of the dress, The Banker will come running."

"How do we get a replica?" Blaine asked. Kurt's plan was inventive, but probably wasn't plausible.

"Oh, Kurt can replicate anything," Rachel explained.

Blaine turned to look pointedly at Kurt.

"I'll need to borrow some chemicals from the forensics lab to make the fake diamonds pass for real ones, but yes I can make a replica of the dress. Clothes are kind of my thing Blaine," Kurt said staring back at the agent.

"I am not allowing you to gallivant around with government issued chemicals," Blaine scolded.

"Fine, I'll work on the replica at your house," Kurt supplied.

"I- wait what? No!" Blaine exclaimed, panicking slightly. He really didn't think he could handle Kurt in his home, alone, just the two of them.

"That's the only fair way to do this agent," Kurt practically purred, moving even closer to Blaine.

"I well- I mean it's- oh very well yes okay!" Blaine stuttered out nervously, trying to subtly back away from Kurt.

"Mmmmm good, well start tomorrow. I'll be at your house around 11?" Kurt asked.

"That's fine. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, yes. Alright, I'm going to the agency to pitch the idea. I'll see you tomorrow," Blaine got up to try and stumble his way out of the apartment whilst hiding his semi hard cock. He stopped suddenly remembering something, and turning back to Kurt asked, "Wait. What is your alias that we're going to use?"

"Oh," Kurt said smirking, "His- well my- name is Sebastian Smythe."

"That was you?" Blaine gasped.

"That was me," Kurt smiled, getting up to walk Blaine to the door, Rachel following behind.

"I always wondered what the hell happened to that creepy sleaze ball," Blaine wondered out loud and then turned accusingly to Kurt, "I did not appreciate all those crude letters you sent me."Sex on a stick"? Really Kurt?"

"What? I wanted to have a little fun! And besides it's the truth," Kurt answered, winking.

Blaine turned a rather appealing shade of red, and promptly walked out the door, calling back a "Don't be late" and making his way downstairs and to his car.

Kurt smiled and sighed lightly as he shuttle door. He still had a smile on his face until he turned to a very menacing glare from Rachel.

"What?" He asked, trying to feign innocence, but failing miserably. Rachel was the one person he'd never been able to con.

She put her hands on her hips and glared even more intensely.

"I'm- I'm sorry!" He cried out, cracking under the pressure of her stare.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing at Hummel," She told him.

"I know-" his voice broke slightly, "I can't help it- I just... I'm in love with him," he finished in a whisper.

Rachel's features softened immediately, and she rushed over to wrap her tiny arms around his.

"I know," she whispered as she held on to him, silent tears falling from his eyes, "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your positive feedback! It means so much! I'm so happy that you're all enjoying this silly little story! Here's the next part. There are a lot of feelings in here, you know, because I adore feelings almost as much as I love porn. Porn with feelings is my favorite! Anyways, I'm updating on the GKM as well as , so which ever you prefer you can find this on both! If I could figure out how to use the scarves and coffee archive I totally would, but ugh that place is so confusing to me! Whelp, I hope you enough this; and don't forget to let me know what you think! Tumblr or review, either or. Oh! And also, though I'm pretty sure no one does/will, but on the offhand chance you have anything to say, show, talk about that has to do with this fic on Tumblr, you guys should totally tag it as thehandthatfeeds, you know, so I can see it too! That would be the best this ever. Okay, again you're all the best!  
> XooX,  
> Wes~

It was 10:30 in the morning when Kurt Hummel knocked on Agent Blaine Anderson's door. The con man felt a little off being there, like it was some forbidden territory that he as sinner should not be able to enter. He had to consistently remind himself that this wasn't the Garden of Eden and that he didn't even believe in God. His mind was all over the place this morning. After his tearful confession the night before, Kurt just couldn't stop uttering it to himself. He was in love. He was in love with the one person he wasn't allowed to have, with the one person who could never love him back.

Kurt was being a tad melodramatic, he knew, it was just that last night, crying in Rachel's arms, was the first time he'd ever actually admitted his feelings towards the agent out loud. He felt as if it should have been some sort of ground breaking revelation, but in all honesty, it wasn't. He'd always know that it was Blaine, since the moment so many years ago. Kurt had never really believed in love at first sight, not until he met Blaine. He could remember her it like it was yesterday. He had accidentally run straight into the agent on the street. Literally ran into him. Kurt immediately knew he'd never meet anyone as beautiful as the man in front of him ever again.

"I'm so sorry sir," Blaine had said kindly, holding out his warm hand to help Kurt off the sidewalk where he had fallen.

"Oh no no, it was my fault," Kurt had smiled at the handsome man, accepting the hand with gratitude. He could still feel the broad callous of his warm hands to this day.

"I'm sorry- you just, you look so familiar- do I know you?" Blaine had asked him after a moment of gazing into his eyes.

If any other person in the world had asked Kurt that question, he would have fired off a sleazy comment like "no but would you like to" or something along those lines, but something about this man's bright honey eyes made him want to curl around him and tell him ever last detail about his life, and in Kurt's particular line of work that's a very dangerous feeling.

"No- I don't this so," Kurt had settled on saying, blushing slightly, "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Agent Blaine Anderson," Blaine had offered, smiling.

Kurt remembered that moment as the moment his heart broke. Because Blaine did know him. He knew him from case files and most wanted excerpts. That's all Blaine would ever know him as. Because Blaine was an agent, and Kurt was a con.

"No- no, my name's Jeremiah, I've never met an agent before," Kurt managed to stutter out. He and Blaine had exchanged a few more pleasantries and Kurt had gotten a way as fast as he could. He hoped he'd never have to see that beautiful face ever again, but in the span of about 8 months, Agent Blaine Anderson learned that the handsome man he'd run into in the street wasn't Jeremiah, but rather a wanted convict, one whom he'd allowed to slip right through his fingers.

Kurt was ripped from his nostalgic self pitying by the door beneath his knuckles being opened in a huff.

Nothing in the world, no amount of porn or otherwise, could have prepared Kurt for the image he was met with.

There, in the arch way of his home, was a half asleep, very adorable, very almost naked Blaine Anderson.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Blaine had obviously not realized what was going on just yet, and Kurt couldn't help but seize the opportunity by getting a good look in. Blaine was devastatingly gorgeous this his curly tussled hair free from its usual gel. He had on very flimsy lounge pants that were slung dangerously low on his prominent hips, and it was easy to tell he wasn't wearing anything underneath. These pants left literally nothing to the imagination, and his morning "predicament" was proudly on display. Oh and dear god he was shirtless.

Kurt never knew that chest hair was a thing for him, seeing as he didn't have any himself, but with one look at the sparse black hair that exploded over the agent's chest, Kurt knew he'd never be able to forget it. His eyes trailed down over the agents taught abdomen (dear god why did he hide that body under this bulky blazers) and to the thick patch of hair that trailed down into his pajama pants. Kurt couldn't control the onslaught of images of him burying his face in that hair and just licking that berated his mind suddenly. It took everything he had in him not to whine out loud.

"Oh my god! You're early!" Blaine yelped, waking up in that moment and trying to use the door as some form of cover.

"Actually, it's 10:45. I'm not that early," Kurt told him, averting his eyes and trying his hardest not to blush like a teenaged school boy.

"I- shit- I must have slept in a little too late," Blaine said, turning beat red and ushering Kurt into the house while still trying to keep himself covered.

_Do not blurt out that you were up all night fantasizing about him you idiot_ , Blaine ranted to himself in his head.

"It's fine sleepy head-" Kurt giggled and looked at Blaine from under his eyelashes, "Go out a shirt on and we'll get to work on this dress alright?"

"I uh- yeah that's, that's a good plan," Blaine managed to stutter out whilst trying not to trip over his own feet. God damn it, he did not like the affect that this man had on him. Kurt was dressed in a black turtle neck that somehow accentuated his long pale neck, and tight (wonderfully tight) dark blue jeans. He looked almost edible. Blaine could already tell that this was going to be a long and frustrating day.

"Just, the living room is that way, you- you go set up and everything and I'll just go- you know- cloth myself," Blaine muttered pointing Kurt towards the room they would be working in.

"Sounds like a plan suit," Kurt giggled. Blaine stopped to smile at him, a real heartfelt smile, and then turned to race up the stairs.

Kurt stared after him for just a moment longer, a secret kind of longing in his eyes that nobody could ever see, and then turned to set up in the living room.

He dropped all the fabric and such off on to the wooden table that had been haphazardly shoved into the room and then dropped himself onto the couch. Sighing, he looked around at the obviously lived in suburb home.

It was so warm and inviting here, so much like the man that occupied it. Kurt couldn't believe that nobody had snatched Blaine up and kept him hidden away all to themselves. He was literally perfect. He was handsome and charming and sexy and sweet and just so damn good that it made Kurt's head spin in the best way possible. In those sleepy moments there on the door step, well Kurt had never wanted to kiss Blaine more, and it sucked. It sucked that he'd never get to give into those emotions; he'd never get to have the man of his dreams wrapped in his arms. He'd never be allowed to tell Blaine that he was truly madly deeply in love with him, and to Kurt, that was way worse than some stupid old prison. Prison he could break out of. He had no way of escaping his own heart.

"When did I get so fucking melodramatic?" Kurt asked himself.

_When you went and fell in love with an F.B.I agent,_ his subconscious supplied for him.

Wow. He was starting to talk to and answer himself. That could not be healthy.

"Alright! I'm fully clothed!" Blaine called, hurtling himself down the steps.

"Oh joy," Kurt grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Blaine asked as he appeared in the living room. His hair was still a tussled mess but now he was dressed in navy blue sweat pants and a white v-neck tee-shirt. Those sweatpants did amazing things for his bottom, and Kurt would not have been surprised if the word "agent" had been stamped across the ass. He was panting slightly from running down the stair and his gorgeous eyes were bright and alive with the idea of hatching a plan. He looked so simple, so happy, he looked miraculous. Kurt could hardly stand it.

"I said, let's get going!" Kurt managed to squeak out, avert his eyes and trying to get his mind cleared.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I am at your mercy," Blaine joked, shuffling in to sit closer to Kurt, "Tell me what to do."

_You don't know how many times you have said that in my head_ , Kurt thought to himself.

"That's what I like to here!" Kurt joked, trying to smooth over the awkward tension that Blaine's words had brought up in him. He stated at Blaine for a moment, only to find that Blaine was staring back, his lips slightly parted and his eyes shining with something Kurt couldn't place.

After a minute, they caught themselves and both boys blushed and looked away, still smiling faintly.

It was going to be a long day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well hello there! I've finally found some inspiration and I'm updating like a mad woman! So so sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy this, I have to say I love me some drama! Anyways, remember to let me know what you think! You can find me on tumblr; youdtearthiscanvasskinapart. Without further ado, here you go!

"Kurt it's beautiful," Blaine gasped after the two of them had finally managed to put together a beautiful replica of the infamous dress. It had taken some serious time and effort, but six hours later, there it was.

"It's alright. It won't pass any type of aging test so for this to work we have to move fast," Kurt explained, side eyeing Blaine.

"Aging tests?" Blaine inquired.

"The diamonds aren't even close to being real, someone wouldn't give me access to the government's precious jewels," Kurt began, smirking at the agent who rolled his eyes, "So if our guy comes to get his hands on the dress, we're going to have to move fast so he can't take it anywhere to get a authenticity test."

"Sometimes it scares me how fast you can come up with things like this," Blaine told the con man next to him.

"There's a reason that they say I'm the best," Kurt snarked back.

"And what's that?" Blaine asked him.

"Because I am the best," Kurt explained rolling his eyes.

"Well I'm better," Blaine smirked, clearly just trying to get a rise out of Kurt.

"Oh yeah? How so?" Kurt challenged, looking up from the dress to glare directly into Blaine's (stunning) eyes.

"I did catch you... Twice," Blaine explained, dodging the incoming swat from Kurt the almost landed on the back of his head.

"Hey! I'm in charge here! You don't get to smack me!" Blaine giggle yelled, unsuccessfully swatting at Kurt.

"Oh my lord, are you 5?" Kurt laughed, blocking Blaine's attempts at smacking him easily.

"5 and a half thank you very little!" Blaine squealed (yes squealed) and launched himself at the con man.

Blaine obviously wasn't thinking. He was a special agent in the F.B.I and this man, who he had willingly accepted into not only his home, but his life, was a criminal. He was having such a hard time repressing the overly inappropriate romantic feelings that he harbored for the con man.

Case in point; the fact that he had somehow maneuvered himself into Kurt's lap, straddling and tickling him without even realizing it.

"Say it," Blaine laughed, tickling the man below him with a childish joy.

"What- oh my god Blaine stop," Kurt choked out, his eyes watering from laughing so hard.

"Say I'm the best, say it!"

"Never!" Kurt giggled out, trying to fight his way out from underneath Blaine. Man, he was strong for a little fella.

"Say it or I'll never let you go!" Blaine shouted, holding Kurt down easily.

"Blaine! Blaine!  _Blaine_!" Kurt's chants began as silly giggles, but quickly broke off into a throaty moan when the agent above accidentally slipped a bit further down into his lap.

Blaine's deliciously toned ass was now pressing perfectly against Kurt's achingly hard cock.

Could you blame him? He was a gay man and Blaine was - well Blaine.

Blaine froze, realizing what he had done just a moment too late. The damage had already been done; the floodgate of repressed emotion had already been opened.

"Kurt-I-" Blaine tried to explain himself, but he just couldn't. Every last coherent thought he had melted away when Kurt thrust his hips up.

"Fuck," The con man growled out, his hand automatically digging into the flesh of Blaine's hips.

A broken moan left Blaine's lips without his permission. How many times had he fantasized about this? He couldn't help the way his body was reacting to the man below him. Slowly, as if he was still in shock, Blaine began to swivel his hips in an almost sinful way. His own cock was now close to throbbing in his pants, and he could feel the heat of Kurt pressing up into his crack. He wanted this, he wanted all of this. He would give anything in this moment for some lube and much less clothing. He could almost feel Kurt taking over his body. God, he wanted to be fucked. He wanted to grab fistfuls of Kurt's beautiful hair, he wanted to kiss his pouty lips and he wanted to be fucked, more than anything he wanted to be fucked.

"Blaine- oh god, yes," Kurt whined, his eyes squeezing tight, and his hips pumping up erratically.

Blaine's ass was perfect. It fit so nicely in his lap, in the palms of his hands. Kurt could just imagine them, in a few less layers of clothes. Blaine would be stretched and open, whining low like he was now, positioning himself to ride Kurt.

"Blaine - oh god- yes- lemme- oh god I want to fuck you," Kurt whimpered against the agents neck, sucking the skin there into his mouth.

It was those words that shocked Blaine awake. Hearing them out loud and by a voice other than his own startled him back into reality.

He was up and off Kurt before the con man could even open his eyes.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked slowly, his blues eyes now almost black. His lips were swollen and red from the abuse they had given to Blaine's neck.

"Kurt - I- we can't. You know we can't," Blaine tried his best to explain.

"Why? Why can't we Blaine? Tell me why?" Kurt nearly sobbed, standing up and trying to get closer to the agent  
 _  
Because I want this to work. I want to be more than a quick fuck to you, because it would make this awkward, because I'm in love with you and I can't be._

"Because of who you are," is what Blaine said out loud.

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh, because I'm a criminal right?" the con man snarled, quickly falling into the cold icy shell head built for himself over the years.

"Kurt-" Blaine began, this time he himself trying to move closer to Kurt.

"Don't," Kurt commanded, backing away from Blaine like he was diseased, "I thought-" his voice cracked lightly, "I thought you were different. I thought you could see me. I guess you're just as blind as the rest of them," Kurt spat out moving towards the door.

"Kurt wait- please just wait-"Blaine called out, trying to stop the man from leaving. This couldn't be happening, everything was falling apart.

"And to think," Kurt said softly, his hand still poised on the door knob, ready to leave, "To think I actually loved you."

And with that, he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I AM ALIVE! I am so so so sorry that it has been so long since I've updated anything! My life has been insane for the last 2 months, but things are finally calming down and I'm trying to figure it all out! Anyways, I'll save the long explanations for another time, enjoy!

Nothing could be worse than this feeling, not even prison. Seriously, Kurt would take prison over a broken heart anytime, any day.

It really wasn't fair. He has no one. He didn't have a single person left in this world. His father had been murdered, his mom died years ago, and now the man he was in love with not only knew of his feelings, he also didn't return them. Things really couldn't get worse.

But in reality, who had Kurt be trying to kid? He was a world renowned con man, and Blaine was a F.B.I agent. No matter how "Romeo and Juliet" it may have sounded, this was not a Shakespearian play, but it sure as hell was a tragedy.

What had he been thinking? Why in the world was Blaine so damn special? Kurt was a user. That's what con man meant! He needed to be able to use Blaine to get to the bottom of the murder of his father! And of course him and his stupid heart had to go a ruin all of that!

"I need a plan," Kurt mumbled to himself as he stormed down the street. He needed to come up with a way to blow this entire thing off. He couldn't stand the idea of Blaine knowing his real feelings without returning them, and he could not get sent back to prison. His dad was dead, and Blaine was stuck with him for another four years whether he liked it or not.

Kurt didn't acknowledge anybody as he stormed down the street towards Mercedes house and up to his apartment. He didn't want to be bothered. He was supposed to be a hardened criminal for god's sake, he couldn't afford for anyone to see him like this; so hurt and so broken.

Kurt barley registered the fact that he was still walking towards his apartment, trying to scrub the years from his eyes. He wasn't even aware of menial things like the clouds that were beginning to form in the sky, let alone the ominous black van that had been following him since he'd shakily ran from Blaine's home.

"I'm a con man, lying is what I do," Kurt groaned to himself for about the fifteenth time. Sighing heavily, Kurt made one last ditch effort to scrub the tears from his eyes and compose himself. He was going to get home, unwind, and pretend this entire day never even happened. He had always been very good at pretending things didn't happen. It was a defense mechanism that he had adapted very early in his life, and now he was going to put it to good use.

"I can totally pretend none of that ever happened," Kurt mumbled to himself as he turned the corner to his home.

To this day Kurt still swears that if he hadn't been so hung up on Blaine he would've been able to apprehend what happened to him before it got out of control. Alas, he was hung up on a certain curly haired detective and that seemed to seal Kurt's fate.

He never saw the sleek black van.  
He never saw it creep closer and closer.  
He never saw the arms reach out from the open side door and grab him until it was too late.  
He never saw it coming.

"What the fuc-" Kurt began, trying to squirm and kick his way out of his attacker's hold. He never had been much of a fighter. Kurt was much more apt to use his clever mind to trick his way out of a situation, rather than his fists. He was kind of starting to regret that decision at the moment.

"If you know what's good for you, you will shut your pretty little mouth and listen to me before I put about 27 ounces of lead in your flawless forehead," a voice growled at him.

Kurt stopped dead in his verbal tracks, but not because his life had been threatened. Hell, he considered it an off day if he didn't get a death threat. No, Kurt stopped because he knew the person who was threatening him, even if he couldn't see him. Kurt would know that voice anywhere.

"Ch-Chandler?" Kurt muttered, squinting, trying to locate the beanie wearing but case in the dark of the van.

"Mother fucker, I knew I should have invested in a voice changer," Chandler cursed, shuffling around and flicking on the light. His mouse like face was illuminated, his evil grimace still perfectly in place.

"What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?" Kurt growled, his previous woe is me disposition all but forgotten.

"What? Old friends can't have a nice chat every once in a while?" Chandler cooed, scooting closer to the con man.

"Old friends? Chandler you stalked me for two months, and now you're kidnapping me, again!" Kurt yelled. He was seriously tired of this super creep constantly showing up when he least needed him.

The Last time Kurt Hummel had seen Chandler had been 2 years ago.

He had been on the run from a certain curly haired FBI agent and Chandler had been a convenient person available to help him whip up an alias. Kurt had, well he had flirted. He was a command for crying out loud of course he flirted! He had pulled out all his charm to con Chandler into giving him an alias and a place to lay low. He had to or he would've ended up in prison.

A lot of good that did.

Chandler ended up being... not all there. He was cute, sure, but he was also three gallons of crazy in a 2 gallon jug, meaning to say he would pop at any given minute. And Kurt could just not afford to get crazy all over his Dior pants.

When Chandler had come to Kurt asking if he could officially claim him as his "Queen of Crime and Gaydom" (Chandler's words) Kurt declined (politely) and then ran like a bat out of hell. You would've too if you'd seen the nervous twitch in Chandler's eye when Kurt has said no.

Turns out that Chandler doesn't give up that easily. When Kurt pulled his disappearing act, Chandler took it upon himself to orchestrate a full blown con man hunt for Kurt. He apparently lived by the idea that if he couldn't have someone, nobody could.

All the while that Chandler was full on stalking Kurt; Kurt was doing digging of his own. He had decided that he was going to know every last thing about Special Agent Blaine Anderson, for research purposes of course.

"If you would just go out with me we wouldn't have to play this silly cat and mouse game," Chandler smiled in what Kurt guessed was his attempt at being coy. He was failing miserably.

"There is no game you weirdo! You constantly feel the need to spring up on me and try to take me away or whatever and I am sick of it!" Kurt bellowed. He really had no patience for this right now.

"Fine Kurt," Chandler snapped, dropping his cutesy facade, and honestly, scaring Kurt a little bit.

"If you want to be a little bitch about it, that's fine, but when you start screwing with my master plans that is where I draw my line."

"Chandler, I don't have a freaking clue what you're talking about," Kurt snapped back. Seriously, he didn't have time for this bullshit, his head was throbbing and his heart was broken and frankly, he was sick of everything.

"Oh really," Chandler sneered, something deep and twisted flashing in his dark eyes. Kurt was starting to feel really uneasy. Sure Chandler was always a little creepy, but now Kurt was feeling the tell tale flashes of fear every time Chandler opened his mouth.

"Ever since you decided to cozy up to that vertically challenged FBI agent, my life has been nothing but hardship after hardship."

"Chandler I don't know how- oh my god," Kurt began, cutting off suddenly when everything started to click into place for him.

"Holy shit, you're-"

"That's right my porcelain prince, I'm The Banker," Chandler grinned in his creepy malicious way. "And your pretty little face has been making my scheme pretty damn hard when you're running around TELLING FBI AGENTS ALL ABOUT IT!" Chandler screamed, causing Kurt to jump.

He really should have known. It was a cunning plan that lacked unoriginality and flare. It had chandler written all over it.

"So now," Chandler said, sickly sweet leaning in so his panting breath brushed over Kurt's ears, "Were going to play a little game to see if the big bad agent cares about you as much as you do for him, I'm not much of a gambler, but my money is on he doesn't."

Leaning back to his side, Chandler began to laugh manically in a well practiced manner.

Kurt Hummel was fucked.

And not even in the fun way.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Look at me updating! Oh yeah! So things in my life are finally getting back on track woo! I just posted an update to Trying Times a few days ago, and now I have an update ready for this fic! Go me oh yeah! I'm working on the next chapter for Stuck like Glue as well! I hope you guys enjoy this Any questions? My tumblr is .com! Drop by! And don't forget to leave a review right here to tell me what you think!
> 
> Xoox,
> 
> Wes!

Blaine was an idiot. He was a downright fool. Kurt had been right there, right in his grasp, flat out begging for Blaine, laying right there begging to fulfill every last one of Blaine's filthy fantasies. And Blaine had said no.

What an idiot.

Blaine was so scared, petrified that if he gave in, he'd have no control over Kurt anymore, and Kurt was his responsibility. He was in charge of Kurt, of keeping him safe. He couldn't let that go for anything.

But then Kurt, beautiful, wonderful, genius Kurt, had said the three words that Blaine had dreamed about for so long.

I love you.

Kurt had said he loved him, that he thought Blaine was different. And Blaine had gone and fucked that all up by trying to do the right thing.

Blaine Anderson had a news flash. The right thing sucks, and it most certainly does not help you get laid.

Blaine moped a bit longer, fighting with himself about going after Kurt, about begging him to take him back, or well take him, seeing as there wasn't much to begin with to take back. He wanted to, dear god more than anything he wanted to sprint to Kurt's apartment and knock down the door, scoop Kurt up into his arms and play out every inappropriate dream he'd ever had about the beautiful man, but he couldn't.

Kurt was, well Kurt. And Blaine was in charge of keeping that Kurt on a short leash, and safe, until he'd served his time.

No, instead of rushing after the love of his life like to dashing hero in a cliché romcom, Blaine did the sensible thing and threw himself on to his bed to sob and hiccup his way to exhaustion.

He didn't want to deals with what all this meant. He didn't want to deal with what this would do to his life, his job, no for once Blaine Anderson wanted to act like a normal person and cry his eyes out about screwing it up with the man that he was in love with.

He would deal with the repercussions in the morning when Kurt showed up to the office.

With a few final sniffles, Blaine finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Kurt didn't come to the office the next day.

He didn't show up for the meetings he had scheduled. He didn't show up to the debrief on the new found information. Hell, he didn't even show up for lunch with Blaine, like they had every day.

Blaine was furious.

Blaine was heartbroken.

Blaine was about 5 minutes away from marching himself down to Kurt Hummel's apartment and giving him a piece of his mind.

Turns out, he didn't have to, because not a second after the thought passed through his head, a very loud, very frazzled young lady burst into the FBI headquarters, screaming bloody murder.

"Where is he?!" She screeched, her eyes wide with fear, anger, and concern.

"Rachel! What the hell-" Blaine began when he finally shook the feeling of shock from his system.

"DON'T USE MY REAL NAME SUIT!" She squealed, rushing towards Blaine, and shoving him back into his office, closing the door behind her.

"Rachel! I have the authority to arrest you for acting like this! What the hell-" Blaine began to bellow, trying his hardest to ignore the stares he was receiving. His office was sound proof, but the walls were clear, so everyone could see the frantic con woman in his office. Blaine was about to continue reprimanding her when he realized her eyes were full of unreleased tears.

"Rachel..." Blaine prompted, quietly this time, as he sat down and gestured for her to do the same.

"Blaine, where's Kurt?" Rachel asked desperately.

"What do you mean where is Kurt? Didn't he- he's not at home?" Blaine asked, worry starting to seep into his voice.

"No! He never- he didn't come home last night at all!" Rachel sobbed.

"Rachel, honey calm down," Blaine tried to sooth the frantic girl, "He probably went out with somebody or something."

Blaine tried not to let the jealously he was feeling show.

"No, he wasn't. I know him. He doesn't- he never just goes with people. And if he's going to be gone for any amount of time he tells me Blaine! We have a secret code!" Rachel explained.

"Of course you do," Blaine muttered, but was silenced by Rachel's glare.

"He's never not sent the signal Blaine. He's never forgotten. Not once. The last person who saw him was you. Please Blaine where is he?" Rachel asked desperately.

"He- Rachel I don't know. He stormed out of my house last night. We had an - an argument and I thought he went home." Blaine explained.

Rachel let out a broken sob.

"Rachel, stop c'mon- I track Kurt remember? I'll check it right now. Nothing's wrong! Kurt is just being Kurt," Blaine said, trying to calm Rachel down as he pulled up Kurt's tracking file.

"What-" Blaine gasped when he saw the radar map.

"Blaine!?" Rachel pleaded.

"He's- I don't understand. He's just- he's gone!" Blaine stammered, his eyes wide and his heart beating wildly.

"What do you mean he's gone!?" Rachel yelped.

"His- the radar- it's gone!" Blaine explained, flailing at the screen.

"You are the FBI! Aren't you supposed to have protocol for this?!" Rachel asked.

"He hacked it. He must-" Blaine began.

"Don't you dare Blaine Anderson. I don't know what happened with you two, and I don't care what you think about him right now, you and I both know that Kurt would never jeopardize this, never jeopardize you for anything." Rachel growled at him.

Blaine wanted to argue. He wanted to throw Rachel out and find Kurt and strangle him for making them worry, but he knew Rachel was right. Someone had taken Kurt.

"Fuck.." Blaine growled.

"What are we going to do!?" Rachel began to panic, "He a con man. No one is going to care I he's kidnapped or dead! He's going to be-"

"I care dammit!" Blaine yelled, then taking a deep breath, he said more quietly, "I care more then you could imagine."

Rachel's eyes softened when she saw the heartbroken tears in Blaine's eyes.

"Then you have to find him." Rachel cooed as she come closer to wrap the agent up in her arms.

"I will, I swear I will-" Blaine hiccupped through his years as he held on to the petite girl.

Snuffling and wiping his eyes, Blaine coughed and sat up straight.

" Santana," Blaine said, his voice full of an authority that he had been lacking, as he pressed the intercom, "I want the entire A team, in my office, like yesterday."

Santana smiled, not know what was going on, but thrilled that her boss had found something that gave him the passion again.

"You got it boss."

Not 10 minutes later the best of the best from the White Collar branch of the New York FBI were assembled in Agent Blaine Anderson's conference room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Blaine began.

"Hey boss! Who's that?" One of the large burly agents, Hudson, asked pointing at Rachel who was at the head seat next to Blaine and Santana.

"Sorry stud, not your team," Rachel snarked, throwing a wink at the small blonde forensic documentation agent, Quinn Fabre.

"Really?! Guys!" Blaine shouted, "This is Rachel. She's here to help us. One of our own has been compromised."

"Though I wish you wouldn't divulge my IDENTITY TO A ROOM FULL OF SUITS," Rachel began, "I am indeed here to help."

"Who's been taken?" A young agent, Pierce, asked concerned.

"Kurt Hummel," Blaine stated, holding his head high, waiting for someone to cross him. He knew how they would react and it wouldn't be pretty.

"Who took Hummel?! Do we have any leads!?" The brute force of their team, Noah Puckerman, growled out.

Everyone started questioning, panicking, and worrying about Kurt.

Blaine wanted to cry. He had underestimated his team.

"Boss," Agent Fabre said quietly. Her voice was soft but powerful, so she commanded the room to silence.

"We know that you thought that we wouldn't care about this, I can tell, but as far as we're concerned Kurt made the decision to become one of us, so he's one of us. He's family. And I think I can speak for the rest of the team when I say we will do anything and everything to get him back here, to you, we know how much he means to you," Quinn explained with a knowing look, as the rest of the team murmured in agreement, causing Blaine to blush. Apparently he wasn't as sneaky with his feelings as he thought.

"Yes- well," Blaine stammered, trying to get himself under control, "thank you."

"What do you need us to do Boss?" Santana asked, patting Blaine on the shoulder.

Clearing his thoughts, Blaine began to give orders.

"Chang, Abrams, I want surveillance from every single camera in this city. I don't care what you need to do to get it, get it. Hudson, Puckerman, you're under cover with Pierce, get the bad look up and get out on the streets. Fabre, take Rachel with you to the lab, I want encoding. All credit cards or transactions under any of Kurt's aliases or anybody that he's worked with against, bring them to me," Blaine ordered, clapping his together as a signal to get going.

"Santana," Blaine said, turning to the girl, "My right hand lady, I need you again."

Santana smiled and nodded at her boss.

"I'll go get the box?" She smirked.

"Go get the box."

"The Box" as it was referred to at the office, was Blaine's own personal file.

It had every last detail about Kurt Hummel that was known in it, and Blaine hoped it was the key to finding the man.

"Alright Boss, what do we got?" Santana asked as she popped down next to Blaine at his desk.

"We go through every file here and try to find somebody who has a grudge against Kurt," Blaine said warily.

"Blaine, he's forged at least $3.5 million in his life time. The entire United States government had a grudge against him," Santana remarked.

Blaine hit his head against the desk and groaned.

"C'mon, c'mon, let's get started," Santana sighed.

Four hours later and they were no further to finding Kurt.

Blaine was on his last straw.

"There's nothing here!" He finally bellowed, throwing the Manila folder he was holding against the wall, sending papers everywhere.

"Damnit, sorry San," he muttered after his outburst as the Latino agent just glared.

Getting up from his desk, Blaine went over to pick up his mess.

Bending down Blaine scooped up the Manila folder, about to pick up the papers when he noticed something.

The folder, it is impact, had bent slightly at the corner. The folder was split, and a little black ink was peeking through.

Blaine's curiosity got the best of him, and he peeled the folder apart, gasping in shock.

How in the world?

"What's up boss?" Santana asked, standing up to look over Blaine's shoulder.

"Kurt left us a clue," he said quietly.

Sitting down, Blaine turned on the desk light for a better view at the letter that was obviously in Kurt's perfect hand writing.

_Agent McSteamy,_

_If you're reading this, you have my box out. Yes I know about the box._   
_If you have the box out that means I've been compromised._   
_I'll bet the only reason you found this is because you get frustrated and threw the file at the wall. You tend to do that in our fits of rage._   
_If I'm compromised, then this will come in handy._

_First, let me say that I love you._

_Second, let me say that I have never in my life lied to you. Yes, I've left parts out, and yes I've lied and conned others many times, but never you._   
_Thirdly, let me say, Santana you are not to give him a hard time about this._   
_Lastly, let me tell you how to help. Though I have upmost faith in you and you're team (you caught me for goodness sake) I know that if I've been compromised, it was a master mind. It was one of three people, if not all._   
_Go. Find Rachel. Tell her "Three's company too."_   
_She'll tell you what to do from there._   
_I'm sorry. I'm sorry broke into your private box. I had to Blaine. Working for the FBI will dredge up old enemies for me and I have to stay safe so I can stay with you. I have to stay with you Blaine._   
_Please don't worry. Please don't compromise yourself. Be safe. I'll come back to you I promise._   
_I'm never saying goodbye to you._   
_All My Love,_   
_Kurt_

"Oh my god," Blaine finally said. He couldn't believe how smart Kurt had been, thinking to leave something for Blaine in case anything like this happened. It made him fall in love with the con just a little bit more.

"That boy knows you better than you know yourself," Santana said, her eyes wide.

"I have to find him. I have to find him and tell him I love him," Blaine whispered, stroking the words on the hidden page with his thumb.

Santana nodded, sighing and clamping Blaine on the shoulder.

"I'll go find Berry," She said, leaving to give Blaine a moment.

"You better be okay Hummel,". Santana growled as she closed the door, "he loves you too much to lose you."

And with that final threat put out in the universe, Santana marched down to the Forensics lab to snatch Berry and make her talk.

She didn't care what it would take, she'd make the fucker who took Kurt pay.

Smiling at herself and the thoughts of how she would help avenge her best friend's kidnapped lover Santana smiled and thought,

_"Man, I love my job."_


End file.
